


"Birds Of A Feather"

by BadLuckCharm



Series: The Untold Story of Destiel Winchester [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: After the events of 10x14, Dark Dean, Dean Bears The Mark of Cain, Destiel gets her period, Destiel is Dean and Cas' daughter, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Hurt Destiel, M/M, Revenge, Sam thinks about Gabe, Sassy Destiel, part three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 10:09:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11644341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadLuckCharm/pseuds/BadLuckCharm
Summary: After the events of 10x14, things get quiet at the Bunker. Until Destiel wakes up one morning and has something to put on the calendar. And if that wasn't bad enough, Crowley decides to show up.





	"Birds Of A Feather"

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy reading :)

Destiel Winchester dredged into the main room of the Bunker, walking not unlike a zombie. And she looked like one too. Her ebony hair was wild, sticking out at all angles and was frizzed out everywhere. Her eyes were only half open and dried drool on the corner of her mouth. She wore only a neon orange sports bra and black boy-short underwear. Des opened the drawer to one of the desks and took out a red marker. The youngest Winchester uncapped it, tossed the cap across the room, and colored in the day's date on the calendar all red. She slammed the marker furiously down on the desk and walked toward the kitchen.

Sam Winchester, who had barely wandered into the room when Des had been furiously filling the date on the calendar, froze still, then proceeded to slowly back out of the room, hoping he hadn’t been seen by his niece. He instead went to the Bunker library and decided to get breakfast at a later time. This was fine with Destiel, who hadn’t noticed Sam’s presence despite her angelic powers.

While Des was raiding the kitchen, Dean Winchester, Destiel’s dad, wandered sleepily into the main room, grey sweatpants and no shirt. Castiel, Des’ father, followed Dean and put his arms around him from behind. Cas yawned, then kissed the back of Dean's neck. Dean turned around to face Cas, and kissed him.

"What's for breakfast, Cas?" Dean asked with sleeplessness dragging him down, contrary to his enthusiasm towards Castiel.

"Dean, you know it is difficult for me to cook." Cas replied. He had been referring to the times the angel had claimed it would be “easy to simply follow directions, for he had been a soldier angel before his fall, after all”. But his constant mishaps with the oven  _and_  the microwave that had nearly burned down the Bunker  _several_  times had proven otherwise.

"Yeah, I know. I'm asking what do you want  _me_  to make?" Cas shrugged at Dean's question, though he knew exactly what he wanted.

"Pancakes?" Cas had come to taking a liking to pancakes since he and Des had started living at the Bunker after patching up their relationship. Clare had gone off on her own, and Cas had developed a "mysterious" new closeness to Dean. The angel hadn't even taken his own room at the Bunker. Not that he needed or wanted to, anyway.

"Alright." Dean agreed. He kissed Castiel's forehead, then set off for the kitchen. Cas, who had no business or interest in cooking, suddenly wondered what day it was.

Days were lost often, and it had been a few weeks since the incident with Cain. Dean hadn't been getting any better with the Mark, (actually, he’d gotten worse) but it was still slow goings at the Bunker. Cas gazed at the date, and his eyes widened in horrid realization. He set off for the kitchen in a hurried fashion.

 _"DeanDeanDeanDean:_   _Hell Week_." He muttered as he made his way to the kitchen, then realized it was too late.

The kitchen was a perfectionist's nightmare:

Pots and pans were thrown in every direction, rags and towels were on top of nearly every flat surface, including the floor. Pancake batter was also on the floor, but it covered more space than the towels and cookware combined. The cream-colored mixture was on the walls, the cabinets, the floor, the counter tops, the small window above the sink, and even the ceiling. In the middle of all the chaos was spotless Des. Cas came in behind Dean, who was frozen still with shock.

"Cas, what day is it?" Dean whispered quietly to his partner, since Des hadn't noticed their presence yet.

"Hell Week, Dean. It's  _Hell Week."_  Cas replied. Dean nodded.

"Figured." Des' head perked up, and both Dean and Cas froze. She hissed at them and ruffled her wings that were shadows on the wall behind her. The dark said wings were in horrible condition: Feathers stuck out at odd angles and dried blood stood out in ugly clumps all over from previous hunts gone awry. Castiel sighed in disappointment at this disrepair.

"Chocolate. I  _need_  chocolate." Des whined at them. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Des," he started, "...if you want chocolate, why do you have pancake mix everywhere?" His daughter shrugged.

"I want pancakes." Destiel said as if it were no big deal. She picked up a bowl that contained what was left of the batter that wasn't on the walls and such (it was a surprise to Dean that there was any left). She dug around in an opened drawer for a metal whisk. When she found one, she whisked so hard, Dean was afraid the poor utensil might fatally break.

Cas and Dean exchanged glances.

"I got this." Dean said confidently, if not with a hint of annoyance and zero patience. He approached Des cautiously. "Des," he began, choosing his words slowly and carefully. "Des, you need to clean this place up.” Destiel looked at Dean, and blinked her eyelashes as if to say; "yes,  _and...?"_  Dean sighed. "You need to clean this place up now." Dean reiterated. Des huffed and rolled her eyes, but snapped her fingers, and the place was clean just like that. The only remainder of the pancake mix mess was the silver mixing bowl that was still full of batter that Des was holding.

"I still need pancakes. And chocolate. Chocolate, Dad. I  _neeeeeeeeeed_  it." She pleaded, dragging out her words. Dean was the roll his eyes this time, and he grabbed the mixture from her.

"Fine. I'll make pancakes because luckily for me, you  _both_  wanted them. And I think I have some chocolate in the cabinet next to the spices." Dean directed. In a flash of wings, Des was in the cabinet adjacent to the spice cabinet. "Don't make another mess, Des." Dean added over his shoulder as he brought out an electric griddle and plugged it in to the outlet on the wall. Des, who was caught in the middle of throwing another item (she’d deemed useless) over her shoulder, stopped and glared at Dean, though his back was turned, and Des stuck her tongue out at him. Dean didn’t notice, and if he had, he did not show it.

"Well, I'll leave you to your cooking, Dean." Cas said with a final kiss on the back of Dean's neck. Then he wandered out of the kitchen, and went in search to go look for the other Winchester brother. He knocked on Sam's bedroom door, but there was no answer. "Sam?" Cas called, and cautiously opened the door. The room was empty. So, naturally, knowing Sam, Cas tried the library next.

Sam was sitting with his back to the door, and didn't hear Cas enter. He was looking at something, but the angel couldn't tell what. It looked like a small, rectangular slip of paper. But before he could get closer and see what it was (not that Castiel was one to invade peoples' privacy, he would never approve of something so devious, obviously), the floor creaked, and Sam snapped his head around on instinct. He relaxed when he saw who it was.

"Oh. Hey, Cas." He said, trying and not really succeeding at hiding the paper under the book he had open. Castiel came over to the table and pretended not to notice.

"Hello, Sam. What are you working on?" He inquired. Sam let out a deep breath and shrugged nonchalantly.

"Not really anything. Just uh, saw what day it was  _and...hid."_  Sam chuckled, and Cas did too. He couldn’t blame Sam: Des could be overwhelming at times, especially during Hell Week. Cas and Dean knew that more than anyone.

"How are you Sam? You seem...off." Cas asked, trying to nudge out the truth.

 _"Off?"_  Sam quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes." Cas nodded in affirmation.

"I'm fine, Cas. How are you?" Sam averted the question, refocusing it on Castiel instead. But Cas had learned about humans over the years, and with the Winchester boys nonetheless.

"I am well. Sam, you of all people should know that concealing feelings is a  _bad_  idea." Cas lectured, blue eyes staring intently down at the younger Winchester brother. Sam sighed, annoyed. He did  _not_  want to talk about this. Especially not with Cas. He’d kept it secret for five plus years, and he wasn’t about to break that streak yet.

"Cas, look. I don't know if Dean put you up to this or if you're just concerned, but I'm fine. And I know, hiding feelings isn't good, it get it, I  _really_ do, but I don't think you should be the one to saying that. Not you or Dean, of all people." Sam said as gently as he could. Cas squinted and tilted his head, like he always did when he was confused. Dean had always thought it cute, though he hadn’t admitted this fact up until very recent times.

"What do you mean, of  _all_  people?"

"Well, I mean, you and Dean were complete closet cases until a few weeks ago. And that was only because Des’-" Sam stopped. "Never mind." He said quickly. Cas' eyes brow furrowed. Something was  _definitely_  up.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Sam…?"

"It's nothing, Cas."

_"Sam-"_

"Look, I'm not saying anything. Even if I told you, would you want to scold her on Hell Week?" Sam defended. Cas took this variable into consideration. Sam wasn't wrong about that.

"Fine. I will not press you any further for information."  Cas declared, still standing next to the table. Then he remembered a maneuver Dean had taught him once. "Sam?" He asked again.

"Yeah, Cas?" Sam asked with a tired sigh.

"What is that?" Cas asked, pointing behind Sam. The younger Winchester brother turned, and Cas removed the book from the table, and revealed the piece of paper. Sam immediately slammed his hand down on top of it before Cas could truly get a good look at it. Cas gave him a sharp look. Sam involuntarily gave the angel a frightened one back. "Sam, lift your hand." Cas ordered.

"No." Sam squeaked. He looked up at Cas with desperation in his eyes that Cas was not accustomed to seeing on Sam. Sam cleared his throat. “No.” He repeated in a stronger voice.

"Sam, what is on that piece of paper?" Cas demanded. Sam shook his head.

"Personal business. Cas, if you go away, I'll tell you what Des did a few weeks ago later." Sam bargained. Cas sighed, then nodded. Well, he  _did_ need to know what his daughter was up to. Cas walked out of the room, but poked his head back in for one second.

"Sam?"

"Yes?" Sam called back, hand still firmly on the paper.

"Remember what I said about repressed feelings. They're not good for you." And with that; Cas left. Sam got up, stuffed the paper in his breast pocket of his dark red plaid shirt, then made sure Cas was gone. Once he was sure he was alone, Sam let out a deep breath, and took the paper out. He unfolded and gazed at it with a warm smile. The slip of paper was a picture of the least expected person:

Gabriel.

When Sam had first seen Gabriel, he thought that the Trickster was hot. Even when he was a real dick, like at the Mystery Spot, Sam still had an underlying, extremely repressed liking for the man. Then when Gabriel explained who he was and his side of the story of why he left Heaven, Sam’s crush on him grew more and more. He could truly relate to the guy, what with Stanford and all.

Sam understood that feeling of need to get away from his family and that “in between” notion of not being sure of where he  _really_  belonged. Sam got Gabriel’s yearn for freedom from an insane family, but a small part in his gut that bit at his conscience always made his guilt weigh him down every time he thought or was reminded of Dean or John or some form of “family”. At Stanford, Sam felt like an ass every time he heard a story about someone’s older brother in the Navy, or when someone went to visit their parents.

And when Gabriel had died to save them, to save Sam, the Winchester felt sick. He felt sick to his stomach for never acting on his crush. That’s when Sam began seriously cracking down on Dean to admit his feelings for Cas, so that Dean wouldn’t have to feel the same way Sam did when Gabriel died. Sam had kept a picture of Gabriel from when he had made a secret meeting with the archangel, wanting to talk out the day Sam and the others had left Gabe in the abandoned building. Gabriel had asked for Sam’s forgiveness, and in return, all Sam had asked for was a good, clear picture of Gabe. When asked why, Sam declined to share with the class because the reason was just too embarrassing.

There was a crash and a shout from the kitchen, and Sam decided his hiding had gone on for too long. Besides, he’d have to face his niece at  _some_ point. He stored the picture carefully back in his pocket -which was conveniently the one closest to his heart- and left the library to see what all the commotion was.

~~~

Des (who had resolved to putting a shirt on, although she skipped over her Dad’s second order of longer pants as well) threw another pan at Dean (who also had put on a t-shirt at Des’ request), who was in the corner of the room opposite of his daughter.

"You lied to me!" She screeched, and Dean ducked to avoid a concussion. "There is  _no_  chocolate in the Bunker!" Destiel picked up another frying pan and held it high, ready to throw at Cas, who was in the third corner. Sam entered the room, and Des threw the pan at him instead. With a "Whoa!" of surprise, Sam jumped out of the way before he could be hit. He hid in the fourth, unoccupied corner of the room.

"Dean?" Sam shouted over the noise of a pan that crashed next to Cas. "What happened? What did you do?"

"I told her there was chocolate in the cabinet!" Dean shouted back after Des threw another silver saucepan in Sam’s (who ducked) direction. “At least, I thought there was!”

 _"Liar!"_  Des shrieked, throwing yet another pan.

"How do we have this much cookware?" Sam asked.

"We  _don't."_  Dean replied honestly.

"She's pulling them all from the Ether." Cas answered for them.

Then, as if things couldn't get any messier, Crowley popped in the middle of the room with a smile on his face.

"Hallo, boys." He greeted. Des threw a pan at him, and he ducked. "Geez, what kind of animal do you keep around here?" Crowley asked at Dean. "Here I was, trying to be nice and drop by for a nice chit-chat about getting even with the newly-weds," he pointed casually at Dean (who frowned) and Cas, "and I get things thrown at me. How rude." Then, an enraged Des threw an overly large skillet at the King of Hell.

“Up yours, asshat!” She screamed. She disappeared, then reappeared next to Crowley, with an extra-large frying pan she clutched with both hands, ready to swing. Crowley gave a snap of his fingers, and Destiel was gone. Her cookware vanished, and Dean’s heart pounded in uncertainty as he and the others came out of hiding.

“Still haven’t taught your kid manners, Squirrel. Seems she’s growing up to become just like you.” Crowley smirked at Dean.

“Where did you put her?” He growled with a fierceness only a parent would know.

“Away.” Crowley answered, picking at his nails.

“Away  _where?”_  Dean spat.

“That’d take all the fun out of it, wouldn’t it?” Crowley grinned smugly.

 _“Don’t.”_  Dean warned.

“Why? You took one of my toys, a very powerful one at that, and gave it to your pet.” Crowley nodded in Cas’ direction. “So now I’m taking one of your toys and feeding it to my pet. Gotta run. Have a half-angel to experiment on. Ciao.” And just like that, the King of Hell disappeared.

“Nonononono you son of a bitch!” Panic seized Dean. “Dammit. We have to find her. I can’t- not again.” Cas put a hand on Dean’s face.

“We’ll find her.” Cas said calmly and gently. Dean tried to control himself. He clutched his arm, where the Mark of Cain burned into his human flesh.

~~~

Des came back to consciousness in a musty room, lit only by fire from holy oil that surrounded her. The young half-angel was strapped on a table at various places on her arms, middle, and legs. She looked around, and then at Crowley, who was on the outside of the circle and wearing a white apron that suggested that someone had tried unsuccessfully to clean off bloodstains from previous encounters. He was standing next to a silver metal cart that held many differing devices for torture. Destiel spied an angel blade amongst the other instruments of pain and swallowed a lump in her throat.

"So nice of you to be coherent." Crowley greeted with a sarcastic grin.

"Oh can it, you demonic assbutt." Des snapped. Crowley stared at her, trying to figure something out. Then he made a disgusted face.

"Ugh. That's not a pleasant thing to deal with. Here, I'm doing us  _both_  a favor." He stated, snapping his fingers. Destiel's cramps were gone and her cycle was over. Just like that.

"Huh." She responded thoughtfully. "Didn't know you guys could do  _that._  Maybe I should've been born a demon instead." Des joked. “So, what would the King of Hell want from me?” Des asked, tone sounding bored. “Why would he bring me to…” she paused, looking around, “…to  _Hell?_ Hmm, never been to Hell before.” She mused.

“Well, before you go on,” Crowley cut in, rolling his eyes, “I’m going to explain to you how this goes. I’m going to ask a few questions and you’re going to answer them.” He picked up the angel blade and smiled at it. He continued his smile towards Des. “One way or another.” Destiel let out a breath she hadn’t noticed she’d been holding in. Crowley walked over and pointed the blade at her face. “First thing’s first. What’s your name, seraphim?”

“Eat me, Crowley.” Destiel barked.

“Sorry. Try again.” Crowley replied, cutting into Des’ arm with the blade. The young half-angel shrieked in pain. Crowley hummed in response. “Hmm. No light of Grace leaking out. Interesting. So you  _can_  be hurt by mortal devices.”

“Damn, those really  _do_  hurt.” She panted, ignoring Crowley’s comment and trying to take in the pain. Her Dad and Father would be looking for her. As would her Uncle Sam. “What do you care about my name? It’s not like you won’t call me some weird nickname like you give to the rest of my family.” Crowley seemed to consider Destiel’s words for a minute.

“True as that may be, I still need a name, sweetheart.”

 _“Don’t_  call me that.”

“Then give me a name.”

“No.” Des retorted. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“You let all your prisoners talk to you like that, Fergus?” A heavy Scottish accent asked coolly from the shadows. A woman stepped forward into the light. She was dressed in dark robes, and had pale skin, with red wavy hair. Destiel felt automatically threatened and defensive as soon as she saw the woman, so named Rowena But despite this fact, the young girl kept her head and humor.

“You got something you wanna add, Merida?” The cold stare that followed the comment made Des uncomfortable.

“What do you want, Mother?” Crowley questioned, voice not hiding his thinning patience for the woman.

“Mother?” Destiel laughed. “Wait till Dad hears  _this_  one.” Crowley gave Destiel a sharp look she ignored.

“I was told you were interrogating a special prisoner, and I came down to supervise.” Rowena replied to her son. Des laughed.

“Aww, ain’t that cute. Got your Mommy to supervise your playtime.” The young Winchester taunted. Rowena turned sharply on her.

“Mind your tongue when you talk to the King of Hell, child.” She bellowed. There was an air of power in her voice that told Des this woman was not one to mess with. Not that it stopped her.

“Yeah, right. The King of the Shitholes. Kinda missed the exit on being impressed, Red.” Des shot back, sounding more like Dean than she knew. Crowley’s mind raced with questions. The witch, Des just  _knew_  Rowena was a witch, fumed and trembled with rage.

“Let’s see how smart you are when your-”

 _“Mother.”_  Crowley cut in. “I have an interrogation to get on with if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, my darlin’.” Rowena complied with one last killer glare at Des.

Crowley set down the angel blade on his torture cart, and traded it in for a needle that was the length of a foot and the circumference of a pencil. He stabbed the large needle-looking thing through Destiel’s left pinky finger, pinning it to the table she lay on. Des yelled out, and her wings –which were at full extension- ruffled and fluttered twitchingly in response.

“Holy  _fuck_  that hurts!” She yelped. Crowley smiled, and jotted down notes on a pad of paper. Rowena rolled her eyes in boredom.

“Is that the best you can do, Fergus?”

“Then go and find your own soul to cut into.” Crowley snapped. Rowena didn’t move, but she shut her mouth and watched as Crowley stuck four more needle things into each of Des’ left-hand fingers. The young girl clenched her jaw and bit her lip. She screamed, a sound heard not just by those around her, but by all angels on angel radio.

~~~

Cas pressed his hands to his head even harder. The Impala tore down the road.

“Cas, you gonna be okay?” Dean asked, giving concerned glances over to the passenger seat.

“I can hear her scream, Dean. It’s so loud and it won’t stop. He’s hurting her, Dean.” Cas said, pained. Dean pressed harder on the gas.

“We need to get there.  _Now.”_  He agreed. Des squealed again, making Cas scrunch up his face and cringe.

“Faster. She doesn’t need to endure any more pain.” He urged, squeezing his eyes shut. Dean nodded.

“How the Hell did Crowley even find us?”

“He’s been tracking us for a long time, Dean.” Sam added from the backseat.

“Yeah well how did he get in?”

“He used an ancient amulet. I saw it around his neck when he was there. It allows a person transportation anywhere they wish to go, no matter what. It’s called the Amulet of Iris. It originated from the ancient Egyptian priests who wished to visit their pharaohs in the afterlife to see how they were adapting.” Castiel explained. “There was only one ever made, and most people thought it was destroyed during the Roman Empire, but I guess not.”

“We’ve got to get rid of it. We can’t risk anyone having that kind of power,  _especially_  Crowley.”

~~~

Destiel whimpered and squirmed against her restraints. She was strong enough to hold back human tears, but she let out another blood-curlding screech that rattled the Earth as Crowley repeated his method on her right hand.

“DAD!” She cried out, breathing heavily. “I’ll kill you, Crowley!” Her threats were shallow, but all she could really muster at the moment. Rowena laughed; a noise that sounded like the squawking of a crow.

“As if.” She commented.

“Shut up, Red. You’re next, you crazy bitch!” Des snapped at Crowley’s mother. Crowley himself continued sticking Destiel with his over-sized needles. She called out in pointless Enochian, something she didn’t even know that she knew. Des struggled, wings flapping furiously. Crowley took notes as he went along.

“You know,” he began while Des moaned “I was led to believe you seraphims didn’t exist. I thought your Father Castiel was the one to kill off the last one.” Des gave him a look to make up for her current lack of words. “Anyway, you must forgive me for being curious on how it is exactly that you half-breeds work. What was it you once said to me?” Crowley smiled in genuine pleasure. “Bad seraphim.” He stuck her right middle finger. “Two to go.”

“FATHER!” Des’ wings strained and failed about uselessly.

“Oh, they’re coming, don’t worry.” Crowley reassured, sticking the last two fingers. “But you may want a heads up, seraphim. The Winchesters, they only care about two things: themselves and their pet angel, Castiel. As soon as they get bored with you, show’s over. They  _will_  abandon you and you  _will_  die.” Destiel looked Crowley in the eyes.

“No, they won’t. They don’t do that. Winchesters protect their family. I’m their family. I’m Dean and Cas’ flesh and blood-”

“And feathers, apparently.” Crowley added, reaching over and yanking out a midnight-sky-colored one. Des screamed, and her body shook with pain.

“Stop, stop, stop it! Please, stop!”

“Are there any more of you out there?! How many?!”

“I don’t know!” Destiel shrieked. Crowley pulled out a larger feather. “HELP ME!”

“Your dad and those denim-wrapped dumbasses won’t even know where to look! Castiel has low battery, and not only is Dean going psycho-killer, but he and Moose can’t get into Hell without me knowing about it.”

“That’s my Dad you’re talking about. And Dean is my Dad. Castiel is my Father, get it right.” Crowley curled his fingers around a rather large primary feather, but didn’t yank it out. Des knew that she most likely wouldn’t grow this one back. “Don’t.” She pleaded, voice small.

“Do it, Fergus.” Rowena urged.

“Shut that hole in your mouth, Mother. Or get out and stab something.” Crowley barked. Rowena slammed her hands down on the opposite side of the table from Crowley.

“NO! You must not let your emotions get the better of you! These Winchesters took something from you, and now you need to take something of yours back. We’ve been over this!”

“Am I interrupting something here, or should I give you guys a room?” Des chipped in. Rowena, who was probably seeing red, reaching over, and yanked out the feather for Crowley. Des screamed so that every mirror and glass window in Hell broke.

~~~

Castiel cried out in agony. Dean’s foot hit the brake at Cas’ shout. He pulled over to the side of the road while Cas gasped in pain.

“Cas, you okay? What’s wrong? Where is she? Did Des say anything to you? Did you locate her?” Dean pounded Cas with questions.

“I don’t know, Dean!” Cas yelled, hands still squeezing his head as he felt Des’ pain. “I can  _feel_  her pain now. He’s pulling out her feathers.” Dean looked at Sam in desperate confusion. The Moose just shook his head.

“I don’t… What does that mean?” Dean asked.

“Her vessel is her own, she can’t leave it. Her wings are tangible, and once certain feathers are removed, they cannot grow back. An angel’s Grace is just like a human’s soul. It is delicate and needs to be nurtured and grow only with the proper care. I noticed earlier, her wings are not looking so well already, they are…quite the wreck. Destiel’s Grace is especially fragile. Adding to the fact that she is not very strong because of her age, but she is also half-human, which makes her all the more easier to hurt or kill.” Castiel replied, gritting his teeth. “When she is cut, she bleeds. Her Grace does not spill out which means she can be hurt by mortal weapons, as well as devices of Heaven. It will not take Crowley long to learn this, if he doesn’t already know.”

“Well do you at least have an idea of where she is?”

“Hell.”

“D-Did you say Hell?” Sam repeated. Cas nodded. “How can you be sure?”

“She’s not on this plane, and she wouldn’t be in Heaven if she’s with Crowley. So she has to be in Hell. It is his domain, after all.”

“How do we get in?” Dean asked seriously.

“I take you.” Cas replied, reaching up a hand to Sam and Dean’s foreheads. Dean slapped his hand away.

“No. No. No. Absolutely not. You don’t have the juice to pull something like that. No way.” He prohibited. “We’ll find another way.” Cas grabbed Dean’s arm as the oldest living Winchester reached for the steering wheel of his car.

“I don’t care what you say I can and can’t do. Last time, I couldn’t save her. This time, I might. So don’t tell me I can’t try to save  _my_  daughter, Dean Winchester.” Castiel threatened. Dean stared back at him with the same intensity.

“Last time, you were low on power. You fly us there? Same actions, same outcome. I’m not losing both of you.” He replied, still glaring Cas in the eye. Sam was afraid for a second that the two men in front of him might start to make out like teenagers. Luckily for him, that didn’t happen.

“Dean, no.” Cas finalized. He zapped himself, Dean, and Sam all down to Hell.

~~~

“Please! Just stop, I can’t take anymore! Please, stop!” The young half-angel screamed, blood seeping from the spot where one of her primaries had been after being viciously ripped away by the King of Hell’s mother. Crowley scowled at Rowena.

“That was  _not_  your move to make.” He hissed.

“I stepped up for you.” His mother replied simply, as if it was as simple as picking up laundry. Which, for her, it probably was. Des breathed heavily, and began silently praying to her Father. Crowley stood up as if there was a fire under his ass.

“Oh no, no, no you don’t.” He reprimanded. He pulled out another –smaller- feather.

“NOOO! STOP! DAD, HELP ME!” She screamed.

~~~

“Got her.” Cas confirmed, and he flew them to Destiel’s location in Hell. Unfortunately, two flights with three people was a bit much for the fallen angel. The three came into the room, and Rowena fled.

“Get away from my daughter, Crowley.” Dean demanded. Des gasped in relief at the sight of her family.

“Father! Dad! Uncle Sammy!” She called, tilting her head to see them better, but then she winced in pain from moving, her wounds bleeding generous amounts of the warm, sticky, crimson substance. Team Free Will all noticed this, and Dean stormed over to Crowley, demon knife in hand. Crowley snapped his fingers and disappeared before anything could happen. Dean growled loudly in frustration, and turned to Des.

“Did he hurt you? Did he do anything else to you besides rip your feathers out?” Des, with hardly any words, shook her head.

“No.” She whispered. “I’m fine.” Dean, still rage-consumed, back-handed his daughter.

“Don’t lie to me!” Dean roared. Cas gasped, but his surprise was immediately replaced with defensive rage. He stepped between his daughter and his partner.

“Dean, stop! You just hit Des! Can’t you see she’s wounded! Get away from her and we can leave!” Dean pushed Cas aside, and pounded his hands down on either side of Des.

“What did you tell him? What does he know?” Sam pulled his brother away from his niece, while Cas stood and untied his daughter. He lifted her off the table and carried her in his arms. She curled up to him, but held out a hand. Slowly uncurling her fingers, she revealed a small, circular purple stone with ancient hieroglyphics on it. Cas gawked at his daughter in disbelief.

“Thought you might want this…” She said softly, then her head rolled back; passed out cold. Cas took the Amulet of Iris Des had stolen from Crowley’s neck, and sent it to the edge of one of the cliffs of the Grand Canyon. There it fell and was shattered, losing its power for good.

Cas turned on Dean, opened his mouth as if to say something, but then he slowly closed it, and turned away. He walked up to Sam, who had let go of Dean. Cas handed over his unconscious daughter to the Moose, and Sam took her into his arms as if the young seraphim weighed nothing. Then Cas put a hand on Sam and Dean, and they vanished from Hell.

~~~

The group of people landed in front of the Impala where it had last been when Dean’d parked it. Sam and Cas walked toward the car, but Dean (who had calmed down by now) stayed back a ways.

“Cas, wait.” Dean called. Sam and Cas turned, but Dean looked at both his brother, his daughter (who Sam was still carrying), and his partner. Sam nodded, and he left for the Impala, bringing Destiel with him. Dean turned to just Cas.

“What is it?” He asked with a tired and annoyed sigh as he strode over to Dean. The said hunter suddenly found it hard to look at Castiel.

“Cas, babe,” Dean took Cas’ hand and threaded his fingers in them. “Cas I love you. I really do. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I don’t even know why it happened… things just got so hairy and I was scared that…well, I don’t even know.” Cas backed away and dropped Dean’s hands.

“I’m not the one you should apologize to, Dean.”

“I know. But, there is something else.” Dean said slowly. He looked at Cas and kissed the angel softly. “We need to split. I mean us. We can’t be together. You can hang around the Bunker, but we can’t be  _together_  together.” Cas had relished the kiss, but the his face fell.

“Dean… You know I’m angry about Des, but is  _this_  really necessary? We don’t have to split because you hit Des. The Mark was controlling you, you have to know that.” Cas defended.

“I know, it’s not about that, Cas.”

“Then what is it about, Dean?”

“It’s about me! And the Mark! I’m dangerous, Cas. I won’t live if I hurt you or Destiel. You and her need to leave, and get out of here. I don’t want to hurt either of you.”

“Why does Sam get to stay? I’m not leaving you, Dean. I don’t care what you do to me.”

“But I care.” Dean leaned forward for another kiss. “I love you.” He said on Cas’ lips.

“I love you too, Dean. I’m not leaving.”

“Cas-”

“No, Dean.”

“Cas…”

“Dean, please-”

“Cas, dammit, NO!” There was a thunder in Dean’ voice that rattled Cas.

“Dean, we always get out of things like this. You’ll be fine. We’ll find something, and you’ll be yourself again and then we’ll encounter something new and I’ll still tell you the same thing. I love you, Dean. Please believe me.”

“Cas, please. I’m begging you, go. If you love me, leave.”

“No.”

“Cas.” Dean was weak, and Cas knew it. “You have to take care of Des. Go somewhere I don’t know, and make sure it’s as far away from me as possible. Close and lock the door. Throw away the key.”

“No.” Cas looked away.

“Cas, please. Babe.” Dean cupped Cas’ chin, and their gazes met. “Cas.” Cas held Dean’s hand, pulling it to his face and kissing the palm.

“I love you, Dean. I have for a long time.”

“Me too. But you have to go.”

“Dean…”

“Cas, don’t.”

“Dean, I won’t let you do this alone.”

“I won’t be alone. I’ll have me, myself and my amazing personality. And Sam.”

“Des has to go, but I’m staying. We don’t have to see each other. I don’t have to live at the Bunker. But I’m going to stick around. Even if we can’t be together, I’m going to help you get through this.” Cas finalized.

“Fine. Des has to go. We keep her safe at all costs. She has to be somewhere where I won’t find her and won’t look for her.” Dean had a thought and chuckled. “Man, no one told me raising a teenage girl was going to be harder than trapping Lucifer back in Hell.” He said. Cas smiled.

“Not just a girl, but a seraphim. Could you imagine if Clare had stayed? I mean, not only do she and Des not get along, but raising not one, but  _two_ teenage girls?” Cas and Dean shared a laugh.

“Yeah, that’s true. We deal with Des first. Then I’ll convince you to get as far away from me as possible.” Dean agreed. Cas rolled his eyes.

“Dean, when are you going to learn I am not like Sam? When you push me away, I want to be closer. I do not bend to your flimsy fights as your brother does with you.” Cas argued. Dean couldn’t help but smile at this.

“When did you become a Winchester?” He joked. Cas smiled a little.

“When I  _first_  rebelled for you.” Dean chuckled, as did Castiel.

He looked to the angel, blue eyes that looked no different from that first time Dean had seen them. This was  _his_  angel.  _His_  Cas, who he’d been through so much with, done so much for. This was the being he loved, the one his soul craved to be with; his best friend. Even now, just looking at the angel,  _his_  angel, Dean held back the strongest urge to scoop up the angel and hold him close, shield him from danger, fix his failing Grace.

With Lisa he had to be careful, so she and Ben wouldn’t get hurt, but with Cas he didn’t need to worry over if the angel was okay because he could have Cas at his side, fighting with him. Castiel could take care of himself, but Dean didn’t want him to do it alone. It had always been that way before. Dean had always wanted to take care of Cas, and for the longest time, that was his excuse. In his early years spent with Cas, that was Dean’s excuse for his excessive time spent with his angel. He wanted to watch out for the nerdy little guy, who was too oblivious to humans to be left alone. Not to mention he had the whole Heavenly Host out to get him. But eventually, as Cas grew accustomed to humans and their ways, Dean knew his excuse was bullshit directly from the closet.

So he started slowly easing into the fact that he wasn’t entirely 100% straight anymore. That that he was going to say anything about it to anyone; he wasn’t ready for that yet…or probably ever. But then there was Des, and then that dream… And Dean knew it was over. His hiding out in the dark needed to end. Countless nights waking up from nightmares with no one to hold on to, sweating and panting, wishing a one particular fallen angel was next to him to hold him tight and tell him he was going to be okay. He’d been the older brother for too long, always comforting Sammy when he got upset or scared, and it was Dean’s turn. He wanted someone to comfort him and look to when things fell apart, and he knew exactly the right individual. Now he had finally had Cas right where he wanted him, but even that was being taken from Dean.

He needed to get rid of this Mark; for good.

“I’m sorry.” Dean said despondently. Cas nodded.

“Me too.”

~~~

Cas came into Des’ bedroom at the Bunker, wearing grey sweats (that were a little loose because they were a size too big because they were Dean’s) and a black Metallica t-shirt (that also belonged to Dean, though this fit Castiel better, for Dean had worn it in earlier years and it had become too small for him). The young girl was asleep on her stomach, wings folded out, as to avoid discomfort. Cas gently shook his daughter awake.

“Des.” He called softly. She stirred, and blinked one eye open at her father in the darkness, for no lights were on.

“Father?” She asked sleepily. She looked at her watch. “It’s three in the morning.” She grumbled unhappily. “You do realize that, right?” Cas grabbed one of Des’ duffel bags.

“Get up. Right now. And get dressed.” Cas ordered, grabbing some of Des’ flannel shirts and stuffing them into the bag.

“Why? Where are we going?” Des did as she was told, getting off her small bed and grabbing clothes. “Are we going on a hunt?”

“No.” Cas answered. He swallowed, and faced the opposite side of the room from Des. Des noticed Cas’ uneasy nature and stopped, staring at him, though he was turned away.

“What’s wrong, Father?” She asked, skeptical of what the answer might be. Cas threw the half-stuffed bag at her. She caught it.

“I’ll tell you on the way. Be out here in one minute, alright?” He asked, leaving her room. She nodded slowly, and finished packing, throwing on some jeans and a t-shirt. She grabbed her silver, oval-shaped locket from the bedside table, throwing the necklace around her neck. She took Dean’s leather jacket off the rack near the door, and slipped out the room. She met her father by the entrance to the Bunker, noting that no lights were on in the Bunker whatsoever.

“Father, what’s going on? Why won’t you tell me why we’re sneaking out? And why are you dressed like Dad as a teenager?” Des asked, firing questions at Cas. Cas turned to her, and looked her in the eye.

“I’m taking you to your Aunt’s apartment.”

“Aunt? I don’t have an aunt.” Des retorted. Cas looked around nervously.

“I can’t tell you here. We have to go. Hold on to your bag.” He said, putting a finger on her forehead. They flew to a small apartment complex on the other side of the country. Cas put his hand on the wall of the hallway and let out a heavy breath in exhaustion. “I believe I will be driving back.” He admitted. Des took in her new surroundings.

“Where are we?” She asked. Cas gazed at his daughter, like it was the last time he’d see her.

“This is your Aunt Charlie’s apartment.” Cas responded. “She’s a very nice, lady, as your dad and Sam have told me. You two have more in common than you know yet. You’re very much birds of a feather, excuse the expression. You’re gonna stay here for a while, while your Dad gets better.” Des’ eyes widened in realization.

“Is this because he hit me? Father, I’m okay, I’m not hurt, it’s fine-” She protested, but he cut her off.

“No, it’s not fine. You’re in danger at the Bunker, and this is only temporary until we find a cure or a way to get rid of it. And you’re not the only one who is having to be distanced.” He added sadly. Des then understood why Cas was dressed the way he was.

“He kicked you out too.”

“No, I’m staying with him, but we must put our relationship on hold. There are more important issues at hand, and the…  _things_  between me and Dean can wait.”

“So why am I being pushed away?” Des disputed stubbornly.

“You know why.” Cas gave his daughter a look.

“But maybe I can help-”

“No. The one thing your Dad and I agree on is that you need to be kept somewhere safe, and out of his reach. I am the only one who knows of your whereabouts, and it has to stay that way, Des. You cannot, for any reason come back to the Bunker. You cannot contact me, Sam, or your Dad.  _Especially_  your Dad.” Cas sighed and stopped lecturing when he saw his daughter's expression. "I'm sorry, Dezzie." This was something Dean had very, very recently been calling Des, mostly when the Mark was hurting him, and his tone had gotten a little unnecessarily sharp. Not that he had ever meant it to be, or that Cas was being mean now. But Castiel was sorry, thus the name. He embraced his daughter a hug, and stroked her long, raven hair.

"I'm gonna miss you, Father." Des mumbled into his chest. She looked up at him.

"I'm going to miss you too, Destiel. Just promise me you'll stay hidden until I come to get you. Don't run away, and don't hunt." Des nodded at her father's instructions.

"Okay. Only if you promise to come back for me. And make sure you, Dad, and Uncle Sam are okay and alive. Preferably Mark-less." Cas grinned and chuckled slightly.

“Promise.”

“You better. You leave me alone, I’m gonna hunt you guys down and kick your asses for forgetting me.” She smirked. Cas laughed, and hugged his daughter tighter.

“We would never forget you. You remind me so much of your Dad.” It was Des that laughed this time.

“I get told that so often. Everyone either says I act so much like Dad or I act so much like you.” Cas smiled wider.

“Well hopefully you don’t make our mistakes. Hopefully you’re smarter than us.”

“I don’t know about that, Father. You know Dad says I act a lot like you. And you say I act a lot like him. And Uncle Sam just shakes his head and laughs, because he says I act like the both of you.” Destiel beamed. “I like being like you. But I’m scared, Father. I’m scared for Dad. I’ve seen your pasts, but I just don’t know if he can pull through this one. I mean sure, if anyone can do it, he can, but…” she paused. “I…I don’t want him to lose himself. He really does care about people, and his heart is in the right place, but…all he gets in return is shit for it. And I just wish I could tell him that I’m there for him, and that he really is a hero, no matter how much of a monster he thinks he is. He’s done more this world than the world ever has done for him.” Cas stared down at his daughter, unbelieving.

“I get it now why your Dad said you act like me. I contemplate the very same thing every day.” Cas replied. Then he sighed. “It’s time to go.”

“Father?”

“Yes?”

“Take the bus home. Or something. Don’t fly.”

“Of course. Oh, and Des, do not fly. You won’t be able to do it with that missing primary. Everything will mess up and you will not find it to be very pleasant.” Cas added. Destiel nodded. Then she hugged her Father one last time.

“I love you, Father.”

“I love you too, Destiel.”

“I’m gonna miss you so much. Can I pray to you?” Cas sighed, and let go of his daughter for the last time.

“I will not be able to respond, but yes. Always know that I will listen, Des. I am always listening. Promise.” He knocked on Charlie’s apartment door, and turned, heading down the stairs. He stopped after a couple of stairs. “Oh, and here.” He threw a small charm at Des. “It will hide your wings from everyone as long as you’ve got it on.” With that, Destiel’s father turned and headed down the stairs, biting his lips to hold back tears. He knew he would not be seeing her again for a very long time. He had purposefully neglected to tell her that there was no cure for the Mark of Cain.

~~~

She was hearing things. She put her Netflix movie on pause and listened for it. No, there it was again. No one should be knocking on her door at three-fifteen in the morning. Not anyone normal, anyway. There was no buzz of a call from downstairs for someone to be let in, either. Charlie grabbed her shotgun from the closet and cautiously moved towards the door. When Charlie looked through the eye-hole, she wasn’t sure what to expect if there wasn’t a monster there. Maybe her landlord? Maybe the cops? Or maybe even the Winchester boys.

The last thing she expected was a young girl to be standing there. A teen with midnight-black hair and emerald green eyes that looked vaguely familiar, which were also tearing up.

“Hi, Aunt Charlie.”

~~~

Sam Winchester breathed a sigh. He heard the door close to the entrance to the Bunker. Des and Cas were gone. That was good, in a way. Sam sighed again. No, it wasn't. Dean was losing hope and so was he. When Dean had mentioned his split with Cas, Sam held his tongue. He had saved it for now, in the dead of night when Des and Cas were gone, and Dean was long since asleep.

Sam sat on the edge of the bed, and rested his face in his hands; elbows to knees.

"Gabriel? Are you there?" Sam called out softly, lacing his fingers together into praying hands. He had done this a few times now, but not like this. He closed his eyes.

He didn't expect an answer. He was almost 100% sure he wasn't getting one.

"Hey, it's me: Sam. Sam Winchester. Well, if you have a minute, I just wanted to talk to you. If you're alive, and if you don't hate us, which, I don't know which sounds more likely. But, if you ever viewed me or Dean or Cas as a friend at one point, then please. Just listen. Dean needs help. You've been around for forever. Maybe you might know something about the Mark of Cain. So please, I'm begging you; Dean needs help. I need your help. I know I'm anything but deserving, but I..."

Sam opened his eyes and made sure to check his closed door was shut and he was, in fact, alone.

"... I miss you, Gabriel. And you knew that I... that I needed you, dammit. Before you died, when I asked you for that picture, you knew. You knew, you bastard, and I was too stupid to not do anything. I'm sorry about that, Gabriel. I wish I could tell you face-to-face how I feel about you. I understand you more than most people do. I can relate well to you. I just..." Sam paused again. "I loved you. And I think, after all these years, I still do."

Sam turned around, and gazed directly towards his doorway.

 

**Author's Note:**

>  **Note : This fic belongs to another author, I'm posting this here on their request, with their full permission and consent.  
> **  
>  *tired voice*Like I said, this intense and fluffy fic isn't mine, so I won't take any credit. Also not to be rude, if I see this fic floating anywhere without the original author's or my permission then, I'll haunt yo asses.
> 
> Stay safe lovelies!


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